


Embers

by Maggiemaye



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arthur is the most pure and wonderful, Gen, POV First Person, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Weasley Family, but please give it a chance anyway, wow I am rusty with tags and not sure what else to say about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggiemaye/pseuds/Maggiemaye
Summary: A father and his sons





	Embers

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ficlet almost 5 years ago and never posted it. It was meant as the third (and final) ficlet in a series, but I like this one better than the first two. Maybe someday soon I'll revise the companion pieces and share them here as well. 
> 
> I would love to start writing new Harry Potter fics in the near future, but inspiration has not come easy lately. So I figure the next best thing is to start sharing the best of my ancient HPFF account here :) Feedback would be amazing if you have the time! And I go by mirkwood-meriwether on Tumblr if you'd like to say hi there as well.

The sounds of battle still seemed clear as day to me, even though the fighting had ended only an hour or so before. It was a phantom ringing in my ears. The screams, the crashes of falling stone, the anguished sounds of lives ending. It had all stopped. But I wondered if I would ever stop hearing it.

Now, the people walked around like ghosts in the Great Hall. We scarcely knew what to do with what we had just endured. On one hand, it was a great triumph. Wasn’t Voldemort’s reign of terror over for good? Harry had seen to that, in the most awe-inspiring display of selflessness I had ever witnessed. I was sure that I would never again see such a sacrifice. But on the other hand, so many lives had been lost. No one would leave this castle the same, and some would not leave at all. The people laughed and cried and embraced, but every pair of eyes I saw looked distant. As though none of them had come back to earth quite yet.

I dragged a sigh from my weary lungs. Maybe _I_ was the phantom. I did feel a bit like I was floating above it, all the sadness and triumph crushed together. It was just too much for an old man.

My Fred was gone. My boy. He had been a toddler just yesterday, hadn’t he? Shouldn’t he be at home, terrorizing the garden gnomes and causing his own brand of mayhem? I searched with my eyes to find the place where he rested. There beside him was George, his posture sagging.

A part of me didn’t want to go to him, not just yet. We would have to talk about Fred, and God knew neither of us wanted to do that. But George was my son. How could I let him sit there alone?

“George,” I whispered, gripping my son’s shoulder. “Oh, George.”

He reached up to grab my arm, but his grip was weak, and he slid his hand back down.

“It can’t be real,” he choked out, still looking down at his brother. Ginny had come to close Fred’s eyes, and now he looked more tranquil than I had ever seen him in life. My Fred had rarely taken a moment to rest. In a way, a small way, I felt glad for him now. Fred had only known the glory of the fight, and now he could find peace. However, he had left behind all the sticky aftermath. Those of us who had survived still had a job to do. We had to recover.

It would be hardest of all for George.

“I know, son.” My own voice sounded strange to my ears.

I had seen where George’s eyes were focused. He was staring straight at Percy, the one who had held Fred as he’d died. When he spoke, it was with a voice I didn’t recognize.

“I hate that I wasn’t there. I hate that it was _him_ there with Fred and not me, at the last. It should have been me there looking into his eyes and saying—saying goodbye.” A deep crack ran through his voice on this terrible word. “Percy didn’t deserve to be the one. It should have been me.”

“You need to stop this, for your own sake,” I said emphatically. I understood that my son was speaking from the ravaged place in his heart, and I truly ached for him. But I couldn’t let him persist with this thinking. I may have been tired and broken, but I was still a father. I still had a job to do.

“I know that you wish Fred was here,” I said. “God knows I would give anything on this earth to have him back with us. But you aren’t the only one who lost a brother tonight. Remember that.”

George didn’t respond. He just put his head in his hands and sobbed, and I wondered how many times my heart could break in a single day.

We sat there a long time, but eventually I thought it was time to leave George to his grieving. I moved about the room again, but my steps were not so aimless this time. My third son stood alone, apart from the family, apart from George. Especially apart from Fred.

Incredibly, it had been easier to know what to say to George. He had lost his twin; an unthinkable loss. But he knew where he stood with his loved ones, which was more than Percy could say at the moment. This seemed a much more difficult problem to remedy. But I was his father. It was my job to remedy the things that hurt my children, or at least to try.

“It’s good to see you, Perce.” I said quietly as I drew near to him.

“How can you say that?”

“I never wanted you gone, son. Never. I only wish—“

It was a difficult statement to finish. Eventually I decided to file it away for the time being, with the rest of the unresolved hurts between us. When it came to this particular son, it seemed that hurt was all I was capable of.

“Tell me, Percy…what made you come back to us, really?”

He paused for a moment. “I suppose I was starting to realize how much I really didn’t know. There was no point in holding onto my stupid behavior, and pretending I was right when I wasn’t. It was time to face reality.”

“That’s the mark of a strong man, son. A wise man.”

He sighed, and for a moment he sounded as old as me. “You don’t have to say that, Dad.”

“Percy. When have I ever hesitated to be honest with you?”

He gave a little shrug, conceding my point.

“We’ll need you now more than ever, you know,” I continued. “You have such a talent for pressing on, forging ahead no matter what happens.”

He scoffed. “That hasn’t exactly been my most admirable trait in the past.”

“Maybe not. But it’s something we all need to learn now, especially your little brothers. You have plenty to teach them, Percy. And plenty to teach me as well, I expect.” I looked my son in the eye for the first time in far too long. His gaze was wide and searching. The air seemed heavy with _I missed you, I love you, I’m sorry._ But neither of us could say it, not just yet.

I looked across at George again, and found that his eyes were already locked onto us. Percy was looking too, and I knew the shape his thoughts were taking. George had lost his most beloved brother, only to receive Percy himself as a comically inadequate substitute. I felt the heat of shame rising off him like steam. Was there anything in my power to remedy that?

It was barely perceptible from such a distance. But George slowly turned his eyes to Percy and inclined his head. Percy returned the gesture, adding a tiny wave of his hand. The lines of his face began, just slightly, to relax.

I could not help but sigh. The Great Hall was heavy with loss, but fighting and bloodshed had been short compared with the battle ahead. I knew, however, that my children were the finest of soldiers. Whatever was to happen next, I could watch over them with pride. And perhaps I could offer them a bit of advice as well, just once in a while. I was still their father, after all.

 _We can start again,_ I thought, slowly allowing myself to believe. _Step by step, we’ll start again._


End file.
